[FIC] On the Other Side of the Railroad Tracks
Title: On the Other Side of the Railroad Tracks
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: high T
Word Count: 1,903
Warning: Mentions of prostitution/slavery, yaoi, and word-puke.
Summary: In the outskirts of Liloolis lie a fenced-in town that no one talks about, yet every adult knows. One day, Young Arthur Kirkland wanders near the railroad tracks and sees a young boy named Alfred on the other side, the same boy who would shatter Arthur's perception of the world forever.
“Mama, what is on the other side of the railroad tracks?” Arthur asked one day, his legs dangling over the kitchen counter.
His mother, who had been chopping up cabbages for dinner, paused for a moment before going back to her cooking.
“A few trees and houses. And people too, though we don’t see them much,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“Francis said there are monsters over there,” replied Arthur, shivering slightly. He had been very scared when his best friend told him the story. “He said his papa walks across the railroad tracks every day, and the monster follows him home at night. And when the monster is in his house, it goes to his papa’s room . . . and they scream . . . and they make weird, loud noises . . . and whenever Francis sees his mama at night, she is always crying. And when he asks her what is wrong, she always shakes her head, like-like she can’t speak or something. She just cries, but the monster and his papa keep screaming and making weird noises, and the louder they are the louder his mama cries. A-and in the morning, when his papa comes down to eat, and monster is not there, and Francis wants to ask, ‘Where did the monster go? Where did the monster go, papa?’ but then his mama always tells him to be quiet, a-and eat his bread, and then she smiles at his papa.” Arthur breathed in deeply. “Mama, there aren’t any monsters over there, right? But Francis wasn’t lying. He said there was said in my eye but I knew he was crying because he was shivering and his face was red and his nose was too. But Mama said there aren’t any monsters, so there aren’t any monsters, right?”
By the time he finished, his mother’s face was as pale as the snow, but she shook her head, steeling herself. She dropped her knife in the sink and lifted Arthur into her arms, before seating him in a kitchen chair. When she knelt down, the brim of her soft summer dress pooled at her feet.
“Arthur,” she said, and he knew from the tone of her voice that she was about to tell him something very serious, “when I was very young, my mother frequently lied to me and my brothers and sisters. When I learned the truth of some of her lies, I-I couldn’t forgive her. I vowed that when I have my own child, I will always, always tell the truth. That is why, right now, I will not lie to you. So, yes, you are right. There are no monsters on the other side.”
“But then what-”
“However, I want you to understand that, sometimes, things are better left alone until you grow older and understand more. Your friend Francis is young, and so are you, and that is why I can’t tell you what the monster really is.”
Arthur looked down at his feet and did not speak. His mother was not like other adults, he knew. His mother always knew what to do, and he had never thought her decisions to be unfair. More importantly, and despite what she said, Isabella Kirkland always treated Arthur like an adult.
“Okay,” he said quietly, still finding his grubby little feet incredibly interesting. Even though he knew his mother was the smartest and prettiest woman in the world, he still could not meet her eyes.
Her mother gave a little sigh and wrapped her arms around him. “Tomorrow, I’ll go over to Francis’s house and talk with his mother. Would you like to come?”
He pulled away, looking into her eyes. “You will help Francis’s mama?” he asked happily.
“Of course,” she said, tousling his hair. “The women of this town have to stick together, like-”
“Daddy’s brownies,” Arthur said knowledgably.
“Yes, just like Dady’s brownies,” Isabella laughed. She stood up and patted her dress of dust. “I’m pretty much done with dinner anyway, so why don’t we bake some brownies and cookies for Francis and his mother? Do you want to help?”
“Definitely!”
“You truly are a gentleman, Arthur.” She chuckled. “All right, then. Let’s see if you got your father or your mother’s cooking genes in you, hm?”
But like any child, Arthur was curious. The next morning, he woke up extra early. After kissing his father and mother on the cheek, he set off to school. But he made a detour. At Greenhill Street, instead of walking straight to his elementary school, he turned right, heading for the railroad.
His heart thumped loudly in his chest. He almost screamed when the Mrs. Pearson called out his name from her porch, sure that she was about to ask him just where on earth did he think he was going. But she had only wanted to say hello, and Arthur greeted her back, as naturally as he possibly could, darting fast out of sight the moment she turned to pet one of her cats.
When he finally reached the outskirts of town, Arthur leaned against a tree and tried to calm his wheezing breaths. He glanced guiltily down at his book bag and wondered how angry his mother would be if she knew where he was going.
Just a peek, he reasoned with himself. Just a peek and I’ll go straight to school.
After all, if there were no monsters, what was the harm in taking a peek?
Nodding to nothing in particular, he resumed his journey.
Arthur had been here many times with Kiku Honda, his second-best friend, since his house was so close. There was a cluster of trees that was great for playing hide-and-seek. Arthur’s father had been frantic when he found Arthur there and asked if Arthur was hurt at least sixty-five times while Mr. Honda apologized over and over again in the background. When Isabella finally calmed her husband down, she made Kiku and Arthur swear that they will never go beyond the woods. Arthur had agreed without asking for the reason; he had always assumed that his father had overreacted as usual and his mother did not want him to wander away.
Now, he knew better.
Arthur crossed the cluster of trees and made his way to an open stretch of land. There, barely twenty steps ahead, sat a pair of rusty red rails stretching across his vision into infinity. Chain-linked fences stood on either side of the rails, making Arthur wonder how Mr. Bonnefoy could have crossed it at all.
Tentatively, Arthur walked closer. His eyes scanned the land beyond the tracks, searching for the thing that would have made Francis’s mother cry every night. But there was nothing. Nothing except a few old telephone wire poles, a few metal storage houses, and trees. Not even a single living being.
There’s nothing here, he thought, half-relieved and half-disappointed. I guess I should just go back now, then. His teacher, Mr. Edelstein, was hard on those who were tardy and would surely report him to his parents if Arthur arrived late.
In Arthur’s country, Liloolis, there was a common belief that those who were bonded by fate would always meet, no matter what, in multiple points of their lives. As Arthur turned to leave, he was stopped by a flicker of movement in the corner of his eyes. He turned around.
A boy was standing there, on the other side of the railroad tracks.
He looked to be around Arthur’s age, with mangy blond hair and dirt-smeared cheeks. There was a squirming bunny in his arms, which he let go as he walked toward Arthur, bright blue eyes staring curiously at the foreigner.
When he reached the fence, Arthur was startled to realize that there were multiple scars and bruises across his body.
“Hello!” the boy said cheerfully, as if his clothes were not made of rags and his skin did not look like it was made of tie-dyed shirts. “My name is Alfred F. Jones! The F stands for freedom, though I’m not supposed to tell anyone that, I think I can trust you. I’m going to be a hero one day and save my mommy.” He grinned. “What’s your name?”
Despite his shock, Arthur blushed. “M-my name is-”
“ALFRED!” a voice called. A woman walked out of the house, and more than anything, Arthur was struck dumb by the sight of her. She was beautiful, almost as beautiful as his mother. Flowing golden hair reached her slim, narrow waist. A small button nose sat perfectly on her heart-shaped face. High cheekbones boasted of an aristocratic beauty.
But there were dark circles under her eyes, and her dress was just as ratty as Alfred’s clothes. Though she lacked his multiple cuts and bruises, Arthur had a feeling that she was just as hurt as Alfred was.
“Alfred!” The woman grabbed said boy by his hand. “C’mon, now. Leave the bunny alone. You cannot linger here for too long. Finish your chores or Mr. Krilling will-Oh, my goodness.” She had caught sight of Arthur, and her eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. Alfred, go inside.”
“But why, mommy? He’s just-”
“Do as I say!” She pushed him away. “Hurry!”
Reluctantly, Alfred raced back to the house. Before he went inside, he looked at Arthur one last time, waving. Then he shut the door.
Arthur was left alone with Alfred’s mother, who looked at him with something akin to fear.
Then she bowed.
“Please, forgive us. I am incredibly sorry if my son had offended you in any way, young sir. I will accept any punishment in my son’s place.”
“I-” Arthur didn’t know what to say. “I don’t want to punish you.”
The woman looked up, and she looked like a cornered animal. Her fingers grabbed onto the wires of the fence. “Please,” she begged, almost sobbing “please, whatever you do, don’t hurt my son. Use me however you want, in whichever way you choose. But don’t punish him.” She reached through the fence, and Arthur backed away. “Please don’t punish him.”
Arthur felt sick, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to speak, but he was afraid he would throw up. He looked at the woman, but found that he couldn’t meet her gaze.
So he bolted, running away from the woman, running away from the railway.
He regretted coming here so, so very much. He wanted to forget it all. Forget he had ever disobeyed his mother. Forget the sadness in the woman’s eyes. Forget the mysterious boy, so beaten and bruised, yet so very kind.
His life was built on perfectly paved streets and flowery cakes and playing tag during recesses. He did not want to know why the woman acted the way she did. He did not want to know the meaning behind her words.
Arthur ran all the way to school and arrived in his class just before the bell rang. His classmates laughed and said, “Eyebrows was almost late today! The world must be ending!” but he made them no heed. He walked to his seat without meeting Francis’s gaze.
Mama was wrong was his only, numb thought as Mr. Edelstein called roll. Mama was wrong.
There was a monster on the other side of the railroad tracks. And that monster was what made Alfred and his mother suffer.